Lovely Scents
by lunanoire
Summary: [slash malexmale SxR short drabble] The smells particularly close to Sirius' heart.


A/N: I actually like this one, even though it is a little short. I wrote it a couple weeks ago and forgot to post it. Tell me what you think.

_**Lovely Scents**  
11/27/05_

Sometimes, early in the throes of the morning, at the darkest hour just before dawn, Sirius breaks noiselessly away from the bonds of sleep, eyes opening slowly to adjust to the sparse light filtering through the crack in his bed curtains.

There's no transition from sleep to conciousness, not even a quick snap; it's as though he's simply asleep and then he's not. It's not something he plans, it's just something that happens every night. Perhaps it was from the quiet clicking noise of the elves lighting the hearth in the commons room, or perhaps his body just decided he had had too much sleep and it was time to awaken without anymore delay.

Either way, he never minded, for early morning was his time. The few minutes between waking and company were his time. The time where eyes were useless, just as words were, for there was nothing to see and nothing to say, and likewise no one to say it to. It was just Sirius and the creaks and groans of the castle, the dawning noises of a fortress so filled with magic and heart that it couldn't help but take on a life of it's own.

But it wasn't just the soft waking noises of the castle that Sirius savored like a good brandy nicked from his fathers liquor cabinet. His life was an accumulation of sounds, the ones that he treasured far outnumbered by the hated, but outweighing them in sentiment by far.

His mothers laugh for instance. Sirius kept this close to his heart, as it's occurence is so few and far between, and is now pratically nonexistant. He knew it exactly, the way it rose up in the back of her throat, and never quite made it past her lips, as though she were inherently amused in the back of her mind but only thought to let it out every so often.

Then there was the sound of a bludger as it whizzes through the air, nearly missing his head and making his heart frightfully drop from his chest. This jolt of adrenaline, this fear, it completely and utterly summed up by this noise, and how it makes his chest feel like it's about to burst with anticipation is hardly ever matched anywhere else in his life.

Trainwhistles. Of all the bizarre sounds one waits for all year, its the sound of trainwhistles. Trains mean leaving home, trains mean going to school, trains mean getting away from his parents. Adversely, trains also mean going _back_ home, and therefore it is quite bittersweet in all respects, but sweet nonetheless.

And then there is the oddest noise of all. A noise in the rustle and creak variety, the odd combination of someone pushing aside the bedcurtain on the blind side and leaning onto the mattress in a quite plea to join him, if only for an hour.

This noise symbolizes love to Sirius, and he doesn't find this odd anymore, as he doesn't find many things odd anymore; that's just the way life -- and love -- is: a rustle of the bedcurtains, a creak of the bedframe, a timid touch on the arm.

As if he could ever turn him down.

And then there was his favorite noise in the world. One better than trains and laughs and creaks and whizzes. One that came more often than a beloved laugh, but not often enough to set the mind at ease: a sigh.

Not just any sigh, one would think. Not of exasperation, or of resignation, or even of resentment. On of contentment: the sweet, peaceful state of happiness that only happens after a comfortable position is found nestled between his chest and his arm, a warm sanctuary of hot skin and heavy breath that only comes when one is completely at ease.

This sigh means that Sirius can give him all of that: peace, sanctuary, ease. Something that doesn't come often in a world where one doesn't fit in, in a world where one is feared and denied, denied necessities like comforting hand squeezes beneath the table and soft looks over boiling cauldron.

This sigh brings light into the darkness of Sirius' world, quiet into a world of noise, love overlapping distrust. It's the nonverbal conformation he needs to pull the smaller, shivering boy closer and warm him with his love.


End file.
